


Steampunk Cherry

by SapphireBlueJiyuu



Series: Hallow's Eve Kisses [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBlueJiyuu/pseuds/SapphireBlueJiyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which we follow Myrcella (Lady Steampunk of Margaery's Halloween Party) and Robb (who is trying desperately to get his sister home safely). This is part of the "Hallow's Eve Kisses Series"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steampunk Cherry

**Author's Note:**

> You can view Myrcella's outfit here: http://i41.tinypic.com/2wh10cx.png
> 
> A quick note about Myrcella's impression of Trystane Martell. I understand that he is different from his family but, like all rumors, they are only but half-truths filled mostly with lies and fabrications. Myrcella doesn't know any better so, she believes in these things that she's heard, despite the fact that most of them may not be true at all.

Robb waited in front of Jon's apartment on the east side of town. He was sitting in the patrol car, finishing off his third cup of coffee, while his eyes peered up and down the street. The night was filled with kids in colorful costumes, taking home their haul of sweets. The night was still early but far later than any kid should be up on a weekday night but he supposed that tonight (and perhaps New Years Eve) were the rare exception. As he saw his brother descend the steps in his crisp uniform, Robb could see the scowl on his face and he knew Jon must be annoyed at him for calling him in on his night off.

As Jon climbed into the car, Robb tried to convince himself that he did not feel guilty at all for doing what he had every right to do. And it wasn't as if Jon wasn't going to get paid for his troubles.

They both sat there silently, the tension nearly palpable. The rumble of the car's engine was the only thing that could be heard with the windows rolled up.

It was Jon that finally spoke first, “Were you home that one day that Sansa and Jeyne were upstairs trying on Halloween costumes?”

Robb thought for a second before answering, “Are you talking about the day she was pirouetting around the house in that-?”

“Yep.”

Robb was silent for a beat before he tentatively asked, “She's not at home right now, is she?”

“Nope.”

“She's at a party?”

“Yep.”

“There are probably guys there...”

“Yep.”

“You have the address?”

“Yep.”

* * *

Arriving at Margaery's front door, Myrcella, Gendry, and Gendry's weird buddy (“Hot Pie” he called himself) made their way in as the host greeted them warmly. Margaery was dressed to the nines in a sexy sapphire blue burlesque getup with tiny gold and black sequins laced into the bodice, her bust nearly overflowing from her formfitting outfit, leaving Myrcella wondering if her brother knew how exposed she looked in that dress or if maybe Joffrey had picked out the outfit for the older girl but anyone who spoke with Margaery Tyrell for more than 5 minutes would know that she was not one who would be easily controlled. Margaery may lead one to think that they were in charge but, make no mistake, she is more conniving and manipulative than just about anyone Myrcella knew. At the beginning, Myrcella wanted to warn the sweet girl away from dating her cruel brother but as she got know the Tyrell girl more, Myrcella realized that she was far more capable of taking care of herself than she lets on. Tonight, Myrcella was hoping she wouldn't have to run into him at all and Margaery's penthouse was large enough that that shouldn't be hard to accomplish.

“Hey,” Gendry nudged her to move past the entryway so that they could set into the opulence of the chic flat, immaculately decorated for the occasion. Myrcella never understood how it was that her siblings were so different. Joffrey was vicious and inhumane, which he displayed to the public the day he violently beat Sansa Stark into submission. Gendry was nothing like that, as well as her sweet younger brother, Tommen, who was as different from Joffery as day and night. Gendry may be stubborn and a bit taciturn but ever since Myrcella was made aware of her half-brother's existence, Gendry never gave the impression that he would do anything but protect people with his fists; his hands were made to build, not destroy. The only times Myrcella had ever seen him nearly explode from frustration was when he was arguing with Arya Stark and those times were far more entertaining than scary. Honestly, Mrycella always felt like she was watching a tennis match with those two; constantly skirting around each other when it was so blatant that their attraction was driving them both mad.

Myrcella quirked her eyebrow to ask what it was that Gendry wanted before he smirked and joked, “Make good choices.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at him before pulling her copper and brass-based, steam punk inspired handgun from the holster strapped to the side of her leg, poised it toward him, and pulled the trigger. An elongated foam ammunition came shooting out from the muzzle of the gun and bounced harmlessly off of Gendry's chest. His rich baritone voice rumbled with laughter as she stuck her tongue out at him before meandering her way to the kitchen, the click of her leather heeled boots were muffled by the vibrations of the music that blasted from the sound systems. Once she made it to the kitchen, Myrcella walked over to the ice chest and holstered her prop gun to free her hands. Filling up a red plastic cup with clear soda before grabbing a stray bottle of grenadine, she poured a generous amount of the sweetly tart syrup into the bubbly liquid, then slowly mixing her drink. Taking a tentative sip, she walked over to the refrigerator, pulled open the door and smiled at the sight of fresh cherries. Proceeding to grab a handful of the plump red fruit, Myrcella piled an ice-cream bowl with her cold treat before slowly making her way back to the living room, with the hopes of finding a quiet corner to people watch.

* * *

Robb and Jon arrived at Margaery's a little after ten. They could hear the party was in full swing by the sounds that were coming from behind the door. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I don't wanna cause a scene. Besides Gendry's there, I'm sure he'll be happy to look after her for us-”

Robb sighed before turning to Jon. “Look, I got nothing against Waters, but seriously if he takes one look at Sansa... oh gods, who knows what he'll would do.” Robb's blood began to slowly burn.

Jon looked as though he was torn between something that was raging inside of himself and simply agreeing with Robb but eventually settled on, “Gendry wouldn't do something like that, Robb. He's a good guy, who is responsible and-”

The older man brushed his defense aside, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Gods, it's like no one can touch your _kindred_ spirit. So fucking defensive.”

Jon glared at his brother, the beginnings of a retort forming on his lips, when Margaery got the door. Her eyes widened just slightly at the sight of the two of them in their very real police uniforms before she gracefully placed on the mask of the sweet hostess. “Robb, Jon. How are you boys this evening? Keeping the city safe for all the little trick-o-treaters?”

“Trying to keep it safe for everyone. Speaking of which, is Sansa here?” Robb asked, getting straight to the point as he forced himself to keep his eyes on her face. Her dress was so tiny that he wondered how she could possibly be so relaxed in it; it looked down right uncomfortable.

“Yeah, she just arrived about... uhm, 30 or 40 minutes ago, I guess. Come on in, there's food on the counter in the kitchen and the tables in the living room and dining table. I would offer you drinks but seeing as you are probably on the job, I wouldn't want to get you boys in any trouble.” She smiled before excusing herself.

Robb and Jon looked around the room overflowing with people and Robb could have sworn he caught sight of Gendry but when he looked again, Jon's friend disappeared into the waves and waves of people. “Hey, let's split up; we'll be able to cover more ground faster that way. Keep your phone on you. We'll call each other when one of us finds her.”

Jon nodded, sure that his voice would be drowned out by the vibrating bass and made his way towards the balcony on the opposite side of the large room.

Robb went left and walked into the living area. He felt his stomach growl at the sight of food but he kept his head focused on finding Sansa. Making his way through the throng of people, his ears were nearly blasted out when he walked past a oversized speaker that was propped up on a stand, a plush black cat perched atop it along with fake polyester cobwebs.

Finally seeing as she wasn't in the living room, Robb moved along the walls towards the kitchen. A flash of red auburn hair that was a lighter shade of red than his caught his eye as he entered the spacious kitchen. Pushing through a crowd of giggling girls, who eyed him in approval, Robb nearly fainted when he caught sight that it was Sansa, who was wearing a very short, very provocative costume. “Sansa!”

Sansa froze in place and then turn around slowly, worry and guilt filled her Tully blue eyes. “Robb! Hi!” her voice squeaked as she tried to mask her fear of the inevitable, “What are you doing here? I thought you were working tonight-”

“Oh! And so you thought that since I was working tonight, you could leave the house looking like that?! Mum would have a heart attack if she saw you in that scrap of fabric!” He said harshly, ignoring Jon's nagging voice about causing a scene.

“Oh, come off it, Robb. This is not as bad as some of the other outfits that are here tonight.” Sansa said patiently, knowing her brother enough that if she yelled, then he would yell, and then this would explode into an all out Stark fight. No, she had to be firm and calm when dealing with Robb.

Robb thought back to the evil dress that Margaery was wearing and began to see red, “You will neverleave the house in anything more scandalous than what you are already wearing.-”

“Robb,” Sansa began softly. Robb knew that tone. That tone that breaks every single Stark ever since the incident the previous year. It was the soft, broken tone that Sansa now uses to get her way. But Robb will not falter tonight, not with that outfit.

“Nope! I'm not even going to let you continue-”

“Oh, look, Myrcella's here!” Sansa's said looking over his shoulder, and Robb felt his insides flip.

Robb whipped around to see the Baratheon daughter standing frozen in a steam-punk outfit, arms filled with a large bowl of cherries and a tub of cool-whip which she had just retrieved from the freezer.

She blushed prettily at the sight of him and he could hardly think beyond the thought that she was possibly the single most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her long blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, curling just under her bust which was covered up with a black leather corset. Vintage aviator goggles hung around her neck to rest atop her chest which heaved up softly as her breathing became ragged. She had grown up so much since the last time he saw her but there was something so very old about her, as if her soul had been around for centuries, her emerald green eyes wise and pensive.

“Hi, Robb.” She said so softly that he didn't actually hear her say it, simply watched the words fall from her cherry red lips.

'Oh no. Don't focus on her lips, Stark. Look away, look away!' Robb did the math in his head and nearly choked at the realization that she was only two years older than Arya! He felt like a dirty, old lecher and he nearly turned away when he realized she had said something to him again.

“Sorry, I didn't catch that?” He asked as he leaned in hear her soft voice over the music. All his internal battles seized the moment he breathed in the intoxicating scent of clean sheets and blood oranges. Robb had to fight the urge to lean in and nuzzle his nose against the curve of her neck. When did sweet, innocent Myrcella Baratheon become such a temptation?

“I said, 'would you mind carrying my drink for me?' ” Myrcella asked breathlessly before making a face, gesturing at the red plastic cup that was on the counter top.

Realizing that Sansa wasn't saying anything from behind him, he turned around and cursed at her absence. “Sneaky brat...” he muttered before turning his attention back to the girl whose arms were full of treats.

“Sure,” he said with a polite smile. She returned it with a sweet smile of her own, her eyes falling to the floor. Grabbing her cup which was filled nearly to brim with a sweet smelling drink he eyed it quizzically wondering if she was old enough to be drinking something alcoholic.

“Virgin Cherry Popper.”

Robb looked up at her brilliant green eyes, swallowing thickly. “What?”

“There's no alcohol in it,” Myrcella said repositioning the bundle of food in her arms, “Just soda and syrup. I know Gendry's going to be drinking so I thought I might be the DD for the night. Try it. It's good.”

Robb smiled at her, his eyes locked with hers as he took a cautious sip. True to her word, there was no alcohol and even though it was a little of sweet for his taste, he rather liked it.

Then it hit him that he was drinking from Myrcella's cup. He pulled the cup back and turned the cup around until he saw the the outline of red lipstick on the white curve of the cup's lip. Inhaling, as he tried to swallow the rest of the liquid in his mouth, Robb soon found himself coughing as he choked on the last few drops of the sweet drink.

“Are you okay?” Myrcella asked as she tried to hold back her laughter, but her eyes belied her mirth.

Robb nodded vigorously before wheezing, “Fine. It's good... just... went down the... wrong tube.”

She eventually caved, her shoulders shaking from her breathy chuckles, saying, “Breathe then swallow, Robb, breathe then swallow.”

Robb's joined in on the laughter despite himself and took another generous drink. “Laughing at my pain, Baratheon? Just for that, you're going to have to look out for my well being for the night. Make sure I don't breathe and... swallow at the same time.” His voice dripping with tease and perhaps more innuendo than he had anticipated.

If Myrcella noticed at all, she did not let it show, simply laughed before saying, “On one condition,”

“Name it.”

“You must refill that drink and help protect my horde of treats against unsuspecting cherry thieves.” Myrcella replied playfully.

“Well, seeing as you've twisted my arm...” Robb agreed with mock reluctance as he turned towards the island counter and added some more carbonated soda and a few more cubes of ice until the liquid rose to the brim of the cup.

Nodding his head to indicate that he was ready for the trek, Myrcella smiled before leading the way back towards the living room. Robb watch, hypnotized by the slight sway of her hips as he followed, her luster was the single brightest beacon in a sea of dull and drab. Stopping suddenly, Myrcella looked over her shoulder and said, “Someone took my spot. Let's go find a quiet corner near the guest rooms.”

Robb did not like the idea of being in an enclosed room with only Myrcella present but before he could voice his objection, she had already made her way to the opposite end of the penthouse.

The music died down considerably when he walked into a lavishly decorated room that he suspected was a personal office of sorts with a small library against the back wall divided by large bay windows overlooking the cityscape below. Robb surveyed the neat space before he chuckled. On the far end of the room, Myrcella had walked over to the coffee table encircled by a plush leather sofa and arm chairs trying with all her might to juggle the tub of cream and the overflowing bowl of cherries. Finally situating her treats, she plopped herself down onto the sofa that faced the window, and turned to smile at Robb quizzically, “You okay there?”

Robb recovered from his daze, covering the obvious blush on his cheeks by rubbing his face vigorously feigning tiredness, “Yeah... I'm just out of practice with the whole going to parties where everyone is pressed up against each other like they're in a sardine can.”

Myrcella laughed breathlessly ( _“Completely enchanting...” Robb thought_ ) as she caught a dark red cherry between her teeth, separating the fruit from its stem. “Oh, that tone was nearly condescending. You know you're not _that_ much older than the rest of us, Robb.” The blonde teased, laying out a facial tissue on the table, and delicately placing the pit a top it.

“Yes, well my mum doesn't seem to think so. She's practically been throwing “prospective wives” at me for the past year and a half. It's a bit of a blow to my confidence when your own mother is saying that you're reaching the end of your prime.” Robb said, placing the cup down next to the bowl of fruit.

“You should consider yourself lucky. We mere mortals have to weed through “the decent, the bad, and the not even close” terrain of the dating world. It almost makes you wish arranged marriages were still the norm.” Myrcella shivered at the thought of her last relationship. “Then again...”

Robb had sat down next to her on the sofa, as he listened intently, urging her on as she lost herself in thought, “Then again?”

“My _mother_ ,” Myrcella's voice was filled with bitter vexation, “had been hinting that Tyrstane Martell was interested in dating me.” She had heard rumors surrounding Trystane. How he came from a ruthless family and how he never treated any of his girlfriends with respect. How he would get violently jealous despite the fact that he would frequent strip bars, taking one or two whores home with him every weekend. To men like Trystane, women were but play things, used to fulfill his base needs, rendered useless after the deed was done.

“So, I suppose I could sympathize.” Myrcella said, conviction filling her words with fire. Myrcella knew her mother wanted ties with a family as powerful as the Martells were in the South, but family ties be damned if she thinks that Myrcella would agree to any sort of arrangement without a fight. There is no way I would date someone I didn't know let alone marry him.

There was no way in Seven Hells Myrcella would ever be anyone's trophy wife.

“You shouldn't be forced to do anything you don't want to do. This isn't the middle ages where you can't choose who you want to date or marry.” Robb's eyes looked as though they were vehemently torn between anger, support, and passion, “I have always been a firm believer that you should only marry who you love and never settle for anything less. Life is too short and yet far too long to place that type of decision in someone else's hands.”

Myrcella was stunned by his declaration. That fire that was burning in his eyes drew her in; like a moth to the fiery pits of hell. She could feel her doom painted on the contours of his beautiful handsome face.

“Myrcella?” Breaking out of her reverie, she turned back just as Robb asked if she was okay.

“Yes. Sorry... uhm... lost in thought.” She said with a reassuring smile.

Her smile warmed Robb in ways that he never knew was even possible. As if there had been a void in his chest he did not realize existed until he saw her smile. It left him wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of his days making her laugh and smile.

The thought of it terrified and thrilled him all at once.

“So! How _are_ cherries with crème? I've never had the combination of the two before, only strawberries with crème.” Robb inquired as he picked up a pair of cherries popping one of them in his mouth, as he watched her do the same.

“They're divine.” she said in between chewing and opening the tub of cool whip. “I'm not the biggest fan of strawberries myself. There is nothing quite like fresh cherries. They're tart but not too sour, sweet but not sickeningly so. And with the addition of the cream, it creates a nice balance of creamy and fruit, neither one over powering the taste of the other.” Myrcella explained, as she dipped her index finger into the thawed out cool whip. Bringing it to her mouth, Myrcella moaned as the sweetness filled her mouth. Removing the pit and placing in on the napkin. She proceeded to sink her middle finger into the cream but looked up to see Robb's intense gaze locked on her actions. “You should try it.” Myrcella insisted shyly, reaching into the bowl of fruit. She pulled out a cherry and dipped it into the crème before pulling it back out, covered in white whipped sugar. She smiled as she handed it to Robb, “Here...”

Robb's hooded gaze flicked between the extended treat and Myrcella's face. His eyes suddenly glittered as a smirked began to take over his handsome features. Before she knew what was happening, Robb gently grabbed her elbow and tugged her arm towards him. Without tearing his eyes from her, Robb pulled the cream covered cherry from its stem, but not before a drop of white sugar dripped onto her wrist. Myrcella blushed furiously as she grabbed her extra napkin from her purse to wipe off the splosh of white from her skin.

“That's okay,” Robb's voice was husky as he stopped her, “I made the mess. I'll clean it up.”

Removing the cherry pit from his mouth, Myrcella assumed he was going to grab the napkin from her hand once he had disposed of the seed, but instead watched wide-eyed as he brought her wrist to his lips. He licked away the cream from her her skin, before eagerly sucking at her pulse point. Myrcella's breath hitched, as she watched his pull back slightly, licking his lips as if to savor the taste of her skin, his true treat. “You're right,” he murmured against her wet skin, “that is divine.”

His hot breath sent tremors up her arm, igniting a fire in the pits of her stomach.

Myrcella didn't know who moved first but the next thing she knew was the feel of his hungry lips pressed on hers.

And just as quickly as it started, it was over. Myrcella didn't even have a chance to savor the moment before it ended, her head swimming from lack of oxygen. Or perhaps it was too much oxygen seeing as she was trying so hard to calm her pounding heart, that all she's been doing since the encounter with his lips was take in copious amounts of air.

' _Why did he pull back? Was the kiss bad? Maybe he's regretting that he's even keeping a 20 year old company when he could be off at some bar with a busty brunette and fake tan job. Oh, Myrcella, you stupid child. When will you ever learn that Robb Stark is by far the one man that you will never have? But then... why did he kiss me? Was it out of pity? I've been pretty good at hiding my feelings for him. But he's a cop; he must be really good at reading people. Maybe he figured me out and now he's just teasing me-'_

“Myrcella, I am so s-”

“No! Don't say it. You can forget about it, be repulsed, regretful even but, please, don't be sorry that it happened.” Myrcella wanted nothing more in that moment but to run out of that room and disappear from his life so that she will never have to face the shame of wanting him so badly that it felt like a sin.

Robb was momentarily stunned before he leaned forward, intensity ablaze in his blue, blue eyes, “I'm not sorry that I kissed you, Myrcella. I'm sorry that I was acting so brazenly with you. Gods, if your mother found out, she would probably subject me to forms of torture that have been banned for its archaic brutality.” There was true fear in his eyes when he said it and Myrcella masked her fear with a strangled laugh.

“I'm sure that's not the case.” She didn't sound convincing in the slightest.

Robb nodded numbly, brows furrowed, “You're right. Because it won't happen again.”

They sat there in silence, taking in the odd ambiance that permeated the room. One beat, two beats. Then Robb chanced a look at the golden girl next to him. His breath caught in his throat, his words dying at his lips, as his gaze locked with her's. He watched as her large round eyes stared up at him before flicking down to his lips longingly. He felt his self-control break as he leaned in to capture her lips, which Myrcella fully obliged, swallowing his moan as their lips collided once again.

“Robb...”

A shiver ran through him as her voice caressed his name like her hands along his body. He felt her pull him down, a soft smile forming on his lips as he leaned into her, pushing her against the plush sofa. She pressed her body against his and kissed him in a dizzying frenzy of gasps and breathless sighs. His large hands encased her slender waist as she feed from his mouth. He ached to wrap his arms around her, to run his hands up and down her lithe form until she came undone beneath his ministrations, but they were interrupted as the door to the study swung open to reveal Jon and his (ex-)girlfriend.

Jon looked irritated and, what seemed to be, a little disturbed as he watched Robb and Myrcella freeze against each other, her hands woven into his hair, his on her waist. “Seven Hells! Do you Starks have lord over ALL the rooms in this damn place?”

He shot another pointed glare at Robb (who looked thoroughly confused at the statement) before nodding to Myrcella, “Hey, Cella. How've you been?”

“Good. Thanks.” Myrcella smiled at the redhead next to him. “You must be Ygritte. I haven't the pleasure.” Myrcella replied, her face flushed with embarrassment as she tried to untangle herself from Robb, who was making it a point to not let her go.

“Yeah. Likewise.” Her voice was unsuccessfully masking her laughter.

The awkward silence returned for a beat before Jon turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him. Robb puffed out a sigh before taking her hand in his. Then the door opened again revealing Jon, “Oh, and I found Sansa. She's asking for one more hour and then she'll take Arya home.”

Robb's eyes widened, “Arya is here?!”

“Apparently. We should technically get her home now before Gendry-”

The rest of what he was going to say was cut off as Ygritte covered his mouth with her hand and laughed sheepishly, “Sorry, Robb, I've really missed Jon and I want to spend some quality time with him before you both go off to save the world, so if you don't mind, I'm just going to steal him away. Okay, thanks, bye.” And just like that Robb and Myrcella was alone once again.

“Wow... that was...”

“ Bizarre?” Myrcella supplied.

“Definitely bizarre. And I have a feeling that Gendry has something to do with the 'bizarreness' involving Arya.” Robb's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“I'm sure it's nothing. Gendry's a good guy. He won't do anything that Arya didn't what him to do.” Myrcella regretted it the second the words left her lips, not because it wasn't true but because she knew how Robb was going to take it.

“What does that mean?” Robb demanded, his ire fueled by a frighteningly bright fire.

Myrcella did not back down though, her own quiet demeanor morphing into a fervid defense. “I only meant that Arya is her own woman now and that she can handle herself just fine. _You_ of all people should know what she's like. She wouldn't let anyone, not even Gendry, get away with violating her.” Myrcella replied, daring Robb to argue her on that point. “It takes less of a reason for her just to kick someone's arse let alone allowing it to get to that point. I know it's hard for you to accept it, but you're sister is nearly 20, Robb. Sooner or later, you will have to accept the fact that you can't protect her anymore. And if- I'm not saying it _will_ , I'm saying _if_ \- she is to make a mistake, there are worse guys than Gendry to make it with.”

Robb was seething next to her, more because he knows that she's right and that he couldn't really do anything about it. And the thought of any guy doing things with his little sister, brought his blood to a boil. But what simmered underneath all of that rage, was the distressing fact that even though Arya was still his little sister, she was not a little girl anymore. He knows that he should back off but he's been doing it for so long, it feels as though it's been ingrained into his DNA.

“You don't have to let go completely,” Myrcella said softly, her voice loosing its earlier edge, “Just umpire from the sidelines. That's all.”

Robb heaved a sigh of defeat and slumped forward, his head held in his hands. Myrcella smiled sympathetically, and brought his head over, cradling it to her chest. “I'm sorry,” he muffled listlessly, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist, “I'll try to be more... _diplomatic_.” he grounded out the word as if it was a curse. She felt him begin to relax as she softly kneaded the tension from his neck.

Myrcella smiled and kissed the top of his head, “That's all we ask.”  


End file.
